Changes
by msllamalover
Summary: The war changes everyone differently. Various characters.


_Disclaimer: Not mine, of course!  
A/N: War changes a person, of that much I am sure. Here are some of those changes._

_I._

When she sings, her voice twists and turns, and dips and rises in ways that are not usually liked. She doesn't sound very good, so she doesn't usually try (which is against her ethos, but she can't help it). Even when people tell her that it doesn't matter that she's not perfect, she keeps it for the times when she's on her own and she can be as loud and as bad as she pleases.

But Ginny can't help but feel happiness bloom in her chest when poor Teddy, who she loves completely, gargles and ceases his tears at the sound of only her lullaby.

_II._

She is beautiful and she's got all the friends and intelligence that make her someone she's happy to be. She wants to grow up, and have a daughter who would look up to her, and a son who would talk to her about anything, and a husband to love and who would worship her.

The war takes the smoothness of her skin, the hearing in her left ear and the confidence in her eyes. She doesn't even know what she wants anymore, who she _is_ anymore. The only person who makes any sense in her broken heart is Dean, and she pieces herself back together, and he is there. Somewhere along the line, Lavender decides to give her life another chance.

_III._

His back is very straight as he takes his notes. His boss respects him, he isn't plagued by nonsensicality and he doesn't waste a moment of his time. He could very easily be at the top of the Ministry ladder in only a few years. This is everything he's ever wanted.

When it comes down to it though, his heart beats _Weasley_, and his mind whispers _home_. And the aching only stops when Percy is fighting side to side with his brothers.

_IV._

Sex is just sex, and he needs her to make him feel something again. He surrenders to her, and she surrenders to him, and the anger and sorrow come spilling out of them both. His life is on hold; he doesn't invent in the day, he doesn't dream at night, he doesn't think about the future and he certainly doesn't reminisce about the past.

When Angelina tells him about the baby, it isn't what either of them had planned, but he doesn't sink further into himself. He tries, he really does. Holding baby Fred in his arms for the first time, George weeps tears that aren't sad, and promises his son laughter all the damn time.

_V._

He is so bloody scared, all the time. He's scared at his sorting, during his lessons and when he's racing around with his camera. He masks it with excitement, because he's painfully excited too, but this world isn't his, and he's scared that they're going to realise that and make him leave. When his brother joins him, he's becoming aware of the darkness in their world, and he's not scared just for himself anymore. As long as his brother is safe, he's sure that the world will be right.

So there's no fear in him when he goes back to fight; he thinks only of Dennis, and Colin accepts the green light that surrounds him with a happiness he's never known before.

_VI._

His parents had always brought him up to think that he was better than his cousin. He had bacon for his breakfast, presents on his birthdays and _parents_, to smother him with love. His cousin was always just there, getting in the way and taking _his _second bedroom.

But he was always there, and somewhere along the line, he grew attached to the skinny loser in ways that he doesn't really understand. As annoying as he is, he's family, and that computes somewhere in the back of his mind. He's clumsy as he shakes Harry's hand, but he's family and Dudley knows that means something.

_VII._

There are so many times that she feels like screaming, sobbing at the world for their judgements. She's not beautiful, she's Veela. Her insides are so far from perfect; she knows that she's too stubborn and judgemental. She knows she's a bit spoilt, but there must be some good too. But no one ever says that to her, as her beautiful eyes are red from crying, and she has chocolate around her beautiful mouth. They just marvel at how wonderful she still looks.

When she marries her Bill, still his family only see Veela. _Autre temps, autre moeurs_, Fleur thinks to herself as she tends Hermione's injuries, and forgets about making them see.

_VIII._

She goes against her father's wishes, and takes a position at Hogwarts instead of in the Minister's office. Eventually, the letters between them dwindle to nothing. She doesn't really make much effort to keep up with most of her school friends, their immaturity bothering her more than is necessary. Her students are her main concern, but they come and they go, leaving her behind in a flurry of hormones and forgetting, until she is just a long lost memory.

When she sees Harry cradled in Hagrid's arms, try as she might to convince herself that her scream was for their cause, it is for him. When Harry's death leaves her numb, her composure crumbles, and Minerva needs her friends around her, after all.

_IX._

She never wanted to be a mother. Especially not now, oh God, not now. She's got bloody pink hair, and bloody ripped jeans and old shirts, and the heart of a bloody child herself. She can't possibly have another person relying on her, not when she's so young and so inexperienced and when the fight needs her so desperately. And then _He_ leaves her, and their child, and she doesn't know how to do this.

_These were yours, darling_, her mother smiles, handing her the old paper bag, _I always kept them to remind me of the baby I had once_. A soft, raggedy cloth doll, an old, flattened hedgehog and a chain of plastic clowns that used to hang on her crib, and Tonks rests her hand on her stomach, and thinks that maybe she'll give it a go.

_X._

They tut and sigh, and tell him that it doesn't matter if he doesn't have magic. Lots of people make it without, muggles have done lots of wonderful things and there are lots of things that he can do that don't need any magic. Even when he goes to Hogwarts, it doesn't feel _right_. He's not as good as his peers. He's shown courage, but courage doesn't impress as much as the house points he gets, that he doesn't really think he deserves, for the house that he doesn't really feel like he fits into.

He goes to see his parents when the war really starts, and he promises them he'll make them proud one day soon. And one thing Neville can say proudly is that he doesn't ever break his promises.

_XI._

His brothers have done _everything_already; been head boy, been Quidditch captain, broken every rule twice, scored highly in their OWLs and NEWTs, dated the girls no one ever expected. There is nothing left to do that means _anything_.

In the end, Ron settles for fighting evil, and annoying Hermione Granger. (It's the second one he does actively, the first just comes with the territory but that's the one he's famous for. It never quite makes sense to him, because as she tells him, he's _really_ good at annoying her.)

_XII._

She seems to spend a lot of her time twirling. Everything seems more exciting, more wonderful when she can't see straight, when the world is a bit fuzzy and fantastical. Reality is painfully overrated.

When her friends try to fight Them off on the train, and when they rescue her, and hug her for a long time when they discover she's safe, Luna realises that there are some times that fantasy doesn't even _nearly_ come close to.

_XIII._

His scar _burns_ and his dreams are painful and his days are filled with hurt. There doesn't seem to be any way to escape this horrible, inevitable world except to fight it until he drops. His friends fight too, and gone are the days when he was alone, but it's almost worse now because he _cares_. He cares more than he ever knew was possible.

Harry has killed a man, a terrible man, but a man all the same. But it's over, and Ron and Hermione have him locked their crushing arms, faces wet and happy, and shocked. It's over.

_XIV._

He can't believe they could be so horribly, terribly careless. Neither of them can do this, there's a war ripping their world apart after all. And he's an old, poor werewolf with dead friends echoing though his days, and he loves her with all his heart, but love can't be enough this time. It can't.

When his Teddy is born, he throws his head back, and howls to the crescent moon, euphoric with the love coursing through him. Tonks laughs, and doesn't matter that he's so much older than her, or that he's a werewolf. Remus loves her, and all of his imperfections have brought him to this moment, and he wouldn't change it for anything.

_XV._

For all her life, she reached for books, where the knowledge of years was stored. They needed her because she knew things. In the beginning, she recalled what she had read and that had _worked_. Merlin, everything she knows, it feels like books have taught her, and that's okay. It's who she is, and it's saved them more than once before.

When Ron's voice reaches her, and rips into her more than any curse, her need to survive, to see him again, isn't something she's learnt from any book. Somewhere deep inside, Hermione just knows.

_XVI._

When she's a child, she cuts her long blonde hair with Kreacher's scissors, hiding in the kitchen. Her silky locks fall onto her dress, settling on the black velvet. She brushes it away (because she mustn't ever contrast with the Black), and runs to her room as fast as she can, before anyone can see her. The next day, her hair has grown back in her first show of unconscious magic. She hates it – both of her sisters have black hair, like midnight and they're beautiful, and they _fit_.

Narcissa's hair hangs like a curtain over them as she risks everything to get what she needs, and it shields her face from the world as she tries to find her son, with hair that's her shade, not Lucius'.

_XVII._

The day is dark and his path is unclear. He thinks of _her_ and lets the soft doe guide him. He raises his wand and draws fear, and creates pain. But the actions are not his own, not willed by him. He teaches, with empty words and a sneer to hide his own suffering. He doesn't know how to live anymore.

His heart slows, and his memories escape but it's okay, because looking into green eyes, Severus Snape finds his way.


End file.
